


Golden

by theironrosebud



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Book/Movie: Prince Caspian, F/M, Golden Age (Narnia), Minor Violence, Narnia is a more savage place than you remember, Oaths & Vows, Rating May Change, Romantic Subplot, Slow Romance, Swords, Tags Are Hard, Telmarine Age of Narnia, Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:20:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27833677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theironrosebud/pseuds/theironrosebud
Summary: A lioness is rising under the star of Telmar.A Daughter of Eve.The faithful one’s heart is golden, and her tongue like a sword refined in fire.When she binds herself in oath, the lion will have his justice.Arys is cousin to Caspian X and a ward of the king. She has lived under her uncle Miraz’s guardianship learning the ways of court until the night her dear cousin fled into the Shuddering Woods. Now the stories of the Golden Age are more than just stories, and there is a revolution on the horizon. When Arys meets the Kings and Queens of Old and forms a strange connection to Edmund The Just, something begins to stir inside of her. Something wild, something Narnian.
Relationships: Caspian (Narnia) & Original Female Character(s), Caspian/Susan Pevensie, Edmund Pevensie/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

Caspian and I were meant to watch the stars eclipse that night with our professor. Instead, the proud fireworks outshone the humble celestials, and my gut was filled with dread, not wonder. My aunt’s dutiful labors had come to an end. 

The Professor woke my lord only moments ago, and sent him off to the woods, pursued by men who would kill him. If only I could have followed. There hadn’t been time, and being the late Queen’s niece and the to-be-King Miraz’s ward, the professor believed me to be safe. I hoped time would not prove him wrong. I watched from a parapet as my cousin fled, and I wept as the stars drifted apart. The sign that was meant to usher in an era of change and peace felt more like an omen of doom, a mirror reflecting back at me the new separation between my beloved cousin and utmost companion, Caspian X. 

With the prince in the wind, the professor foresaw his arrest, and I was left alone, adrift, lost on the edge of a castle wall. I had been instructed by the professor to return quickly to my chambers, but my feet could not follow. Instead, I lamented to the crisp, night air. How unjust was it that princes were betrayed and birthrights squandered? The darkness before me held no answer. Lord Miraz revealed himself to be a man with no honor, unlike my other uncle, Caspian IX. What would he say of his brother if he were here? How would Miraz answer for his betrayal?

Only one thing stood clear in my mind now. A crown would not fall upon his head, not while my lord Caspian or I drew breath. I needed this alone: Justice. 

I stood watching from a discreet position on the castle’s walls until the early hours of the morning. I watched some of the king’s guard return from the woods to the stables, fewer in number. There was a body slung across the back of one of the horses. I returned to my chamber and collapsed for grief and exhaustion. 

When I rose the next day and broke fast, I dressed in a deep blue, almost black, dress with cream underlay and light silver accents. The square neckline laced at the front with black cord, and the sleeves extended from shoulder to wrist. My layers of skirts hit the tops of my shoes, hiding my brown leather boots. I didn’t despise the fine dresses or the skirts, but I would not sacrifice my boots for the slippers the other court ladies prefered. 

Lord Sopespian had called council, after hearing the rumor of Caspian’s disappearance, no doubt to accuse the lord Miraz of crimes against the royal bloodline. I admired his boldness, but after the events of the previous night, I was nervous for him. If his loyalties did not sway with the changing wind, I would almost fear for him, but the man had a way of manipulating others to preserve himself that went unrivaled by any other council member. 

As ward of the king, I sat on the council. It had been Caspian IX’s will for me to serve the court in his way and learn from the experience. If Prince Caspian were crowned king, I am to be his aid until the time comes for him to choose his wife, who would then take on the role. That arrangement seemed distant now, like an unachievable dream wished upon by naive children. 

Today, my true lord far from me, I was to attend council alone. 

When I came upon the chamber, Lord Miraz had yet to arrive. I took my seat under the crafted star and waited for the arguing to begin. Lord Sopespian wasted no time in beginning his denunciation of lord Miraz and his allies in the council. It took all my efforts to control my facial expressions. It was necessary for my face to be a clean slate here, to appear unbiased and thus survive. Once upon a time, I would have trusted Lord Sopespian’s word. Now, he smelled like a snake. Accusing Miraz one moment, kissing his feet the next. 

“...Until every chair in this chamber is empty?” another lord begged now. 

I listened carefully to his appeal, unmoving. The lord’s gaze met mine briefly, and I was suddenly hyper aware of the empty seats on either side of me. Lord Sopespian eyed me as well. I resisted the urge to fold in on myself. Being the lone woman, it was easy to feel vulnerable under their inspection. I kept my spine straight, imagining myself as regal as the late queen on her throne. I pretended I was sitting for a portrait. I was a doe holding still in the camoflauge, unseen by the hunter. 

The doors slammed open then, and their bows were lowered. 

“Lords of the council, my apologies for being late. I was not aware we were in session,” Miraz said approaching his seat beside the empty throne. His eyes flicked over me dismissively, but I caught his shoulders tense slightly at the sight of me in my place among the lords. 

If I didn’t know better, I would think the sight of me frightened him. 

He redirected and began a jaded conversation with the lords. His deception sickened me. He acted as if this was an accident, a tragedy. The only reason I did not rise to my feet and cut his tongue where he stood was because I knew it was not yet time. I needed my lord Caspian to return first. The professor had begged my patience, and I trusted his word. 

Glozelle, the king’s general, entered the chamber now. 

“That is the most disturbing news of all. Our beloved Caspian,” said Miraz, “was abducted by Narnians.” 

The room clamoured, and my heart hammered in my chest. How dare--

“You go too far, Miraz. Expect us to stand here while you blame such a blatant crime on fairy tales?” 

I knew more about Narnians than anyone else in the room probably did. I had listened attentively while the professor recounted their creation and stories of the Golden Age. They were gentle but valiant people, and they would not kidnap and murder a prince, like Miraz would.

Glozelle opened the door to the chamber and two men entered dragging with them a very short man. Despite all the stories, never before did I think I would find a dwarf standing before me. Heartbreak and hope surged in my heart, and Miraz’s next words fell on my deaf ears. The dwarf was the one they had brought in from the woods, which meant Caspian X still lived! But it also meant this man would die, for Miraz would surely make a scapegoat of him. 

The dwarf was forced to kneel, and Miraz struck him hard across the face. A gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it. 

The gag came loose, and the dwarf spoke. “And you wonder why we don’t like you.” 

His accent was strange, not as harsh as the telmarine tongue. If I placed my own accent on the spectrum, it would fall somewhere between the two, for I did not speak as highborn as my cousin. My consonants were softer like the professor, and my vowels less rushed than Caspian’s. 

Miraz stood before the throne and swore undue vengeance on the Narnian’s before ordering the guards to do away with the dwarf. He finished by demanding Lord Sopespians men to build a bridge across the Great River so he could attack the forests with his armies. 

When the council was dismissed I all but ran back to my chambers. I snatched a knapsack from my trunk and began to fill it. I changed into riding pants, a shirt, and a panelled leather chestplate which laced in the front and sides. I put the dress I had worn to court and an extra shirt in the knapsack. I turned to look about the room one last time. My rapier was gone. Where had my rapier gone?

The door to my chamber swung open to reveal the Professor. Striding towards me, he slung a brown cloak over my shoulders. 

“They will take him to the ruins,” he said. 

“But Caspian-”

“You must follow them,” he argued, “He will lead you safely to the Prince.”

“I am without my weapon,” I said desperately. Fear battled hope inside of me, and despite the low neckline of my bodice, I felt strangled. 

“You are never without weapon, Arys.” 

From within his robes, he drew a sheathed sword. It was a wider blade than my rapier had been, but it was a weapon I was well-trained in wielding. He exposed a few inches of the blade by the cross guard. It was a different kind of steel than the telmarine blades. This was sharper, holier. 

“She is for you. May she be your tongue when words fail you,” he said. I wrapped it in cloth, and concealed it, tying it to the quiver of crossbow bolts on my back where it was less likely to be noticed. 

“I will come back for you,” I vowed. 

“Go,” he replied, shaking his head. 

I rushed through the corridors and down secret passage ways until I came to the stables where my horse was saddled and waiting. I would follow the rivers to the Cair Paravel ruins, but I must do it quickly. Surely the guards and the dwarf were already far ahead of me. 

“Where are you going, lady?” The gatekeeper asked me. 

My blood ran cold. I stared at him, unwaveringly, though my breath was still in my lungs. “To hunt.” I gestured to the crossbow tethered to my saddle.

He hesitated for a moment before opening the gate for me. I forced myself to ride out calmly. He would soon realize his mistake, and Lord Miraz would send Glozelle after me.

The second I could, I strayed from the road, and into the woods, heading east. Soon I found the Great River which the telmarine soldiers would have rowed down to bring the dwarf to the ocean’s mouth. I tracked them for the better part of the afternoon, riding horseback along the banks from the cover of the treeline. As I gained more distance from the Castle, I felt safe enough to dismount and rest. I untied the new sword from the quiver, and unwrapped the linen now that I was away from prying eyes. I strapped it across my back, leaving it on proud display beside the quiver. 

After a few minutes of stretching, I mounted my horse again and continued. 

The sun was high when I finally caught up to them. I heard shouting from the water way, and approached the treeline that had concealed my movements so far to witness the Telmarines standing in their boat tossing the dwarf over the side. I loaded my crossbow, but before I could shoot, a red feathered arrow struck down the first soldier. The second soldier swam to my side of the river. 

He struggled to his feet, and made to flee through the trees. I drew the hood of my cloak around my face to obscure it and kicked my horse to cut him off. He was looking over his shoulder when I pulled up beside him and blocked his path. My horse reared up on his hind legs, and the soldier fell to his knees. 

He begged me for mercy from his place in the dust. 

“I have a message for your Lord,” I declared, keeping my voice low. 

His eyes widened at my crossbow’s true aim. 

“Tell him: The lion will have his justice, and Miraz will not be spared.” 

He nodded frantically as if he’d seen a phantom and clambered to his feet, sprinting west. 

I urged my horse back in the direction of the beaches. 

The dwarf was now freed from his bindings, and standing before a group of four adolescents about my age. Two girls and two boys. Their clothes reflected my own in their fineness. I could not hear their words clearly, but they had with them Narnian weapons, and they were not fighting the dwarf or taking him prisoner, so I guessed they were also Narnians. The two boys had glistening swords, and the older of the girls had a bow. The youngest, you were surprised to find, carried a dagger at her waist. After a moment of chatting, they climbed into the rowboat abandoned by the Telmarine soldiers, and began to sail.


	2. Chapter 2

I followed for some time, until one part of the river sank down, and the earth rose above it on either side like walls. I dismounted my horse here, taking up my knapsack and crossbow, and smacked the horse’s rump so he would run off into the forest and hopefully backtrack to a settlement. I began following on foot, weaving among the greenery and keeping the water on my right side. I hoped they were still leading me to Caspian and hadn’t decided to go on some other excursion. 

The dwarf sat solemnly as did the archer. The older boy rowed while the younger, dark haired one manned the rudder. Eventually, the wind changed direction and I was able to pick out bits and pieces of the group’s conversation, which gave me some relief. 

The young girl gazed above to the trees, where I walked.

“They are so still,” she said. 

“They are trees. What do you expect?” replied the dwarf. 

I missed her response, skipping away from the edge of the little cliff just in time to retreat from her view. She had almost seen me. 

“Wasn’t long after you left that the Telmarines invaded,” said the dwarf. 

My eyebrows scrunched together. Were these people not also Narnians? They carried their colors and weapons, but did not know the state of the people? 

“Those who survived retreated to the woods.” He continued, “And the trees, they retreated so deep into themselves that they hadn’t been heard from since.” 

I looked at the tree trunks around me. The Professor had told me of the dryads and naiads, how they danced in the sunshine, flowers for hair, sighing pleasantly with the breeze. 

“I don’t understand,” said the girl. “How could Aslan have let this happen?” 

I had wondered the same many times. The Great Lion, elusive as he was, had always been my favorite in the stories. I remembered the tale of him breathing life into the world, commanding the animals to speak. He had raised an army in secret to defy the White Witch. He sacrificed himself to die on the stone table for the son of Adam, was stripped of his mane, and resurrected with the dawn. He had made the traitor into a king of justice. 

“Aslan?” the dwarf asked. “Thought he abandoned us when you lot did.” 

What was that supposed to mean?

“We didn’t mean to leave, you know,” the blonde boy said. 

“Makes no difference now, does it?” 

“Get us to the Narnians and it will.’

The group fell silent after that. I expected them to speak some more, but they did not. I pondered for a long time as I walked what the dwarf and the boy had meant. They carried Narninan blades, and wore narnian clothes. But they were not aware of the Telmarine invasion. And yet they were on their way to find the Narnians, and hopefully my cousin. It didn’t make any sense. 

I wondered if perhaps they were travellers or seafarers and had been away from the continent. But even those far from Narnia knew of the history of the invasion. No, that couldn’t be right. These people were speaking of the Golden Age. Of Aslan. And it sounded like they knew more than the Narnian dwarf himself knew. 

Four children. Two girls, two boys. Narnian weapons. The Golden Age.

“When two sons of adam and two daughters of Eve sit upon the four thrones at Cair Paravel…” I muttered. “Stars above!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment :)


	3. Chapter 3

I was growing tired of walking, when the group finally pulled the boat onto a pebble beach. I regretted letting my horse go when I did, as I realized I would have to wade across the water to get to the side of the embankment the others were on. If they continued into the woods without me I would lose them, and lose the trail to Caspian as well. It was time I make myself known and join them. 

I started to form a plan in my head as I watched as the boys pulled the boat up the bank. I was about to unlace my boots so I could swim across the river when I heard a gentle “Hello, there” from the other side. My head snapped up, thinking they had seen me. 

The youngest girl was approaching a black bear. Her siblings looked on, unbothered. 

“It’s alright. We’re friends.”

My stomach sunk as she attempted to converse with the dumb animal. Any tactical plan I was forming in my head fled, as the blood drained from my face. They weren’t saving her. Why weren’t they saving her?

“Don’t move, your majesty,” cried the dwarf. When the girl turned to look at him in question, the bear began to charge. 

“Hey!” I shouted, sprinting for the water. “Come and get me!” 

I dove in up to my knees and begged for the bear’s attention. It turned its terrible face to me and started growling. Standing up on his hind legs, he considered his options. 

“Stay away from her,” the archer commanded. The black bear charged me galloping into the water. The youngest girl turned tail and ran. 

“Shoot, Susan! Shoot,” yelled the boy. 

“That’s right! Come and get me!” I cried again, throat tearing from the effort. 

I was halfway across the water and soaked up to my waist. I drew my sword from my back, and as the bear stood to swipe at me, the girl screamed. Before it could deliver its fatal blow, a red arrow struck its heart, and I drove my sword up into its neck as it fell. Unfortunately it fell on top of me. I was crushed under its weight, and water flooded up my nostrils. I tried to cough but only ended up swallowing more water. I lost my grip on the sword and my hands found themselves flailing against the musty, wet coat of the bear. 

I felt a hand around my upper arm, and the weight of the bear disappeared. I coughed and choked out water when my head broke the surface again. My hair was smeared around my face, and I couldn’t see. 

“You’re alright. You’re alright,” a voice beside me said. 

I retched up river water. Someone’s hands caught me around the waist and hoisted me up so I was standing against them. Blindly, I wrapped my arm around their shoulder. A hand swiped the hair and water from my face, and my panicked, wild eyes searched for the face of my savior. The younger boy with the dark hair was holding me to his side with one arm. I struggled to get my balance, the light current pulling at my weak knees. 

“You’re okay,” the boy said again. 

I was gasping and shuddering as he half dragged me out of the water. My cloak weighed heavily around my shoulders. The boy sat me down on the pebble beach and knelt before me. I rolled onto my side, my now wet quiver, scabbard, and knapsack digging painfully into my body while I retched up more salt water. 

The one who had saved me was reaching for my neck, and I scrambled away from his touch for a moment, trying to slap away his hands. I stepped on my own wet cloak in my panic, the cord tightened against my throat, and I choked once more. He snatched me by the wrist and with his other hand, had the knot undone in one swift tug. 

I heard voices at a distance. The archer asked, “Why wouldn’t he stop?”

“I suspect he was hungry,” the dwarf answered darkly. 

I was on my back now staring at the sky. The boy had yet to release my wrist, as it lay limp across my armored stomach. 

“Thanks,” I said to him. My voice was more hoarse than it had ever been. 

The boy’s grip on me relaxed. I let my eyes slide closed. 

“He was wild,” he said curiously, standing. 

“I don’t think he could talk at all,” the other boy observed. The blond one had evidently rolled the bear off of me and was coming up to us with my sword in his hand. My crossbow was lost. 

“Get treated like a dumb animal long enough, that’s what you become,” added the dwarf, still distant from me. I heard him go to where the bear lay dead in the shallows. “You may find Narnia a more savage place than you remember.”

“I am a fair butcher,” said the one who’d saved me. Together they began to field dress the bear. 

I tried to regain control of my lungs. I was extremely wet and extremely uncomfortable, so instead of attempting conversation, I elected to lay there and use my exhausted state to my advantage. 

Someone knelt at my side. I cracked an eye open to see the youngest one looking down at me. “Are you alright?” she asked kindly. 

I sat up, and my wet hood slapped against my cool back, stuck in place from the quiver and scabbard. My abdomen was sore from heaving. I reached up for the buckle to my quiver and scabbard and undid it one handedly. The sopping cloak and weapons fell to the rocks behind me. I put my head between my knees and tried to calm my pounding heart. 

“I’ll endure,” I finally answered. The child seemed to find this answer satisfactory, although her brow still creased in concern. 

To the side, the two older siblings whispered to each other. 

“You saved my life,” she whispered. 

“What’s your name?” The older girl asked me now. 

“Arys,” I said, despite the strain on my voice. 

“I’m Lucy,” offered the youngest one. I lifted my eyes to hers. 

I was right. She was the Narnian queen. 

“Daughter of Eve,” I whispered. 

Her eyes grew wide, and she looked between her siblings, then to the pair butchering the bear. 

“She knows us,” she said to them. 

Upon hearing this, the dwarf looked away from the bear and observed me closely for the first time. 

Realization swept across his features. “You!” he yelled. 

“You know her?” King Peter asked. 

“She was in the courtroom when I was accused of abducting the prince,” he drew a blade and pointed it at my throat. I regarded it lazily. 

“She’s a Telmarine?” King Edmund asked, abandoning the bear in favor of watching the confrontation. “But her blade is Narnian,” he said, like it was the easiest explanation in the world. 

“It is but another thing the Telmarines stole from us,” the dwarf said. 

The kings looked at me differently now, disgusted. Lucy looked torn. And Susan seemed upset in a general sense, but not quite angry. 

“It was a gift from my professor,” I defended. “He instructed me to follow you, so that you could take me to the prince.”

“She’s obviously a lying spy. She wants us to reveal the location of the camp,” the dwarf accused. 

Lucy looked unconvinced. 

“I saw her! She serves the king Miraz!” His blade was still in my face, but I felt no fear. Only anger. 

“I serve the true king!” I snapped, still on the ground. “Miraz is a usurper! He was a traitor to his brother, the king, and now to Prince Caspian X.” 

“Caspian X?” Susan asked, confused. 

“My cousin,” I explained. “He is the rightful heir to the throne. He fled the castle last night, because Miraz ordered him to be killed.” 

All the arguing made your voice hurt. Is this how the men of court felt whilst they bickered? Tired and pained and trapped?

“You didn’t seem bothered by that in the court today,” challenged the dwarf. 

“I wore mourning colors for him, did I not?” I asked, tearing up. “I saw them bring your body into the castle from the woods and thought it to be his.” 

Some realization corrupted the angry expression on the dwarf’s face. 

I pressed on, “And when they brought you into the chamber, it gave me no relief, pleasure, nor peace.”

His weapon started to lower, but he remained suspicious. 

“My lord is out there, with your people, and you must take me to him. Only together, will we all see Miraz overthrown, and Narnia freed,” I said. 

Edmund and Peter had been silent for a while, and they seemed to be having a silent conversation with the girls over what to do. 

Finally, Peter spoke, “Swear your loyalty then.”

“Pete,” Edmund began, shaking his head. 

“I swear, then, in oath that I will serve the true king,” I interrupted. “He who is just, patient, and merciful...” 

Beside you, Lucy’s breath caught in her throat. The rest stared.

“My heart and sword belongs to King Aslan. His breath gave life to this world, thus I will protect it until my lungs draw their last.”

I met their eyes with fierce determination. I displayed more faith in the Lion than most native Narnians had in taking that oath, and the kings and queens knew it. I was a woman of my word. They would see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment :)


	4. Chapter 4

I laid a while longer in the rocks while the boys finished butchering the wild bear, and the girls remained quiet although Lucy’s eyes rarely left your form. The young queen watched as I sat up, wrung out my hair, and tried to plait it again, while my cloak dried beside me. Susan’s eyes watched the treelines, on edge after discovering Narnia’s “savagery” as the dwarf had put it. 

His name I found out to be Trumpkin. His demeanour towards me was still a sour one, my vow hadn’t changed that. I was still a Telmarine after all. But I believed some sympathy had taken root inside him when I had spoken of Caspian and of the tyranny of my uncle. I think he knew deep down I hadn’t wanted to see him as a prisoner, and that I truly had followed him to help him, not hunt him. 

Edmund glanced at me every once in a while as they butchered the wild bear. He had a certain sense of reverence as he did it, I noticed. His eyes met mine and he almost sliced his hand open. After that he did not look up again. 

I pulled the clothes out of my pack, and tried to air out what had gotten too wet. Thankfully, there wasn’t much there to get wet. It was almost dry again, from the breeze and sunlight when Peter suggested we store the bear meat inside. I did not argue. 

Edmund approached and handed the pack off to Peter, before offering his hand to pull me up to my feet. I put my hand in his, and he tugged me up. My wet back, now more exposed to the breeze, sent a chill through me, and I clenched my jaw. My hand tensed in Edmund’s until he let go, giving me a concerned once over. I cleared my throat and tossed my plait over my shoulder so that my hair hung down my back. 

“Thanks,” I murmured. His eyes caught mine again, and he walked backwards away from me. 

He took the pack from Peter and hefted it over his own shoulder. 

“I could carry that myself, my lord,” I said just loud enough for him alone to hear. 

“I know,” he said. 

The group set off in the direction of the River Rush. 

After a while of walking, my clothes were completely dry, and my cloak was dry and slung back over my own shoulders. Peter led us through the trees, and the queens chatted idly with each other. Trumpkin seemed the least impressed with the journey. Soon Peter and Susan began debating navigation. 

I was lost in my thoughts, watching myself put one foot in front of the other, when Edmund sidled up to me and asked, “Your sword, how did you get it?”

“I told you, it was a gift,” I replied. 

“I know, but I mean, I didn’t think Telmarines let their women learn sword craft.”

I frowned at the idea of being “allowed” to do anything. I did as I pleased.

“They don’t,” I said. 

“But you can use it?” he said curiously. 

I knew he wasn’t asking me to be rude. I wanted to explain that I was quite skilled, but I was a rarity. Instead, I replied without scoffing, “Of course I can use it.”

Peter glanced over his shoulder at us and frowned. My eyes dropped back to the path underfoot. 

Edmund caught the gesture and frowned also. After a lengthy pause he said softly, “Peter’s stubborn, but he will come around. We’ll need all the bladesmen we can get in the days to come.”

My eyes lifted sideways to meet his. He was being earnest. He wasn’t going to stop me from fighting alongside them. 

“Do you think you will have the numbers, my lord?” I asked. Hope was a dangerous thing for a woman like me. 

“Trumpkin tells us so, in the woods. Their paths will have crossed with your cousin’s there,” he said. He was trying to offer me comfort. It was working. 

“Then Caspian will be doing what he can to rally them together.” 

I paused as we came across a drop into a small ravine. Edmund slid down, and offered me his hand. I took it and leapt down to his side. 

“We loved the stories of old Narnia,” I continued. “I hated to think that such glory and beauty had been extinguished. Now that he knows the truth, Caspian will support the revolution and the fight for a free Narnia.” 

“Will it be for Narnia or for himself, though?” Peter called. He’d been eavesdropping. 

Edmund looked irked at his brother’s interruption, and the queens looked at each other, not eager for another argument to break out. 

I kept my face and voice calm, like I would have in the council room, saying, “Miraz cannot sit on the throne; that much is Caspian’s right as Prince to take back. And he is not his father’s father. Caspian will make a good king.”

He stopped walking. “The throne Miraz sits on was built on Narnian blood shed,” Peter argued. These arguments were making me weary, my patience was taut like a wire.

I squared off against the high king. “Would you have every one of us fall on our own swords for the crimes of our fathers? There is not one man who has not sinned against another. The whole world would bleed,” I said a little too forcefully than I probably should have. 

Peter looked rightfully admonished, if not still a little irritated. Edmund was right, he was bloody stubborn. 

“Besides,” I said, continuing to walk. “Caspian is a son of Adam, just as you are. We were made to be kings.”

We walked in silence a little longer after that. Eventually, I fell to the back of the party alone, Trumpkin just in front of me, Lucy and Susan at the middle, with Peter and Edmund at the front. Edmund was still carrying my pack, and I was soon glad for it. My feet ached, and my calves were cramping. I regretted letting the horse go when I did. 

Eventually Susan began to protest. “I don’t remember this way.”

I didn’t know this way either but I was far from the parts of the woods that were familiar to me. 

Peter replied, “That’s the problem with girls. You can’t carry a map in your heads.”

It took all my effort not to roll my eyes at the high king. Caspian learned a long time ago not to say things like that to me. 

“That’s because our heads have something in them,” cried Lucy. 

“I wish he’d just listen to the D.L.F. in the first place,” mumbled Susan. 

“D.L.F?” I asked. If this was a title for dwarves, I had not heard of it before. 

“Dear little friend,” Lucy said. 

Edmund, Trumpkin, and I slowed, and Trumpkin said, “Oh that’s not at all patronizing is it.”

I let myself laugh out loud at the comment, momentarily forgetting about the stakes surrounding our journey. Edmund looked at me with similar mirth in his eye, before the three of us carried on to catch up with the group. 

Finally, Peter came to stop at a series of corridors in the rock formation we were traversing. 

“I’m not lost,” he said to himself. 

Trumpkin climbed into the space and said, “No, you’re just going the wrong way.”

“You last saw Caspian at the Shuddering Woods,” argued Peter, “and the quickest way there is to cross at the River Rush.”

“But unless I’m mistaken there’s no crossing in these parts,” replied Trumpkin. 

“That explains it, then. You’re mistaken, “ the high king insisted. 

I didn’t remember a crossing either, except for near Beruna, which was Lord Sopespian’s land. But if Peter was confident enough to insist, and I had no other direction to suggest, we had no choice but to go where he led. 

Eventually as we walked, the sun set lower in the sky, casting golden light through the greenery. Had I not been so weary from walking, I would have been at peace amidst the forest’s beauty. Edmund still carried my pack, and all of my things were now completely dry. I offered once again to take the load from him but he refused. 

Then, we reached the River Rush, only to discover it was at the bottom of a ravine. I could have wept. Maybe I should have suggested the Ford at Beruna earlier. 

Susan rattled off a fact about erosion, to which Peter replied, “Oh, shut up.”

“Is there a way down?” Edmund asked. 

I crept closer to the edge of the cliff to take a look down it. 

“Yeah,” said Trumpkin. “Falling.”

From my view, falling wasn’t a pretty option. 

“Well, we weren’t lost,” said Peter. 

My heart softened towards the boy. I could tell he was starting to feel guilt for his stubbornness. Him and Caspian were more similar than I would like to admit. 

My heart tugged again at the thought of my cousin. Travelling on foot had lost us our sense of urgency, and I was suddenly reminded that I did need to find him quickly. Miraz was using Caspian’s disappearance like a false martyr to wage war on the Narnians, and as long as Caspian was separate from me, he was without guidance. I needed to tell Caspian about Miraz, about Glozelle, about his father. He needed to know the truth, and we needed to tell the Narnians what trials lie ahead, what a second war against the Telmarines would look like. 

“There’s a ford near Beruna.” Trumpkin asked, “How do you feel about swimming?”

“I’d rather that than walking,” Susan said. 

The memory of being submerged in rushing water sent a chill through me. I would not enjoy the swim across the ford, but I would do what I must to complete my mission. 

I inched away from the edge of the cliff as the rest of the party turned to double back towards Beruna. Lucy lingered, as did I, to ensure the queen did not fall. 

“Aslan?”

I lifted my eyes from the ground to where she was facing. The breath left my lungs as I followed her gaze to the other side of the ravine. I tried not to lose my footing, and for a moment I was deaf to the world. A great golden lion stood watching, waiting. My lips parted in a soft gasp. Lucy was speaking, but I didn’t hear a thing. She pointed and when I blinked next the lion was gone. 

“Do you see him now?” asked Trumpkin. 

Lucy turned to the dwarf, but I could not tear my eyes away from where the lion just was. 

“I’m not crazy,” Lucy defended. “He was there. He wanted us to follow him.”

I could not find my voice to confirm or deny. Now that the lion wasn’t within my sights, I couldn’t promise I had seen him at all. But what I knew was whatever I had seen, brought such warmth to my chest, more than any stargazing or fighting ever had. And I suddenly found myself compelled to follow the ends of the earth to feel that warmth again. It was a sensation more than hunger, more than thirst. 

“I’m sure there are any number of lions in this wood, just like that bear,” said Peter. 

The memory of the bear gave me a shudder, but my stare did not waver. 

Still, Lucy persisted, “I think I know Aslan when I see him.”

Behind me, I heard Trumpkin say, “Look, I’m not about to jump off a cliff after someone who doesn’t exist.”

“The last time I didn’t believe Lucy, I ended up looking pretty stupid.” This time it was Edmund who spoke. 

Finally, I turned towards the group. The younger Pevensies shared a look of solidarity before Edmund’s eyes flicked over to me. He inspected me cautiously and I felt exposed to his stare. I tried to look reassuringly at him, but it must have been very unconvincing. Edmund nodded to me as if to say, he would ask later. 

“Why wouldn’t I have seen him?” Peter asked Lucy.

“Maybe you weren’t looking,” the young queen said. 

Peter apologized, and led us away from the cliff. As I put one foot in front of the other, I felt eyes at my back and glanced over my shoulder one more time to see the empty space where the lion stood. The feeling did not leave me for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment :)


	5. Chapter 5

We made camp for the night, not far from the ford. The boys had set about roasting the bear meat, and by the time night had fallen, I was tired and hungry. I sat apart from the group, watching as stars came into view, speckling the sky with flecks of light. Trumpkin who had helped with the fire was showing Edmund how he should roast the bear while the queens rested with each other chatting quietly. Peter was brooding slightly, not unlike me. 

I was worried for my prince. I was dreading whatever plan Miraz was plotting with Lord Sopespian. I was praying for Caspian’s wellbeing, while I contemplated the growing temptation in my own heart. I wanted justice for Caspain X and his line. I wanted justice for the Narnia that was stolen. But within me, I felt justice and vengeance mingle, and inability to distinguish the two frightened me. If I couldn’t find peace in my own heart, how could I counsel Caspian to bring peace to a people?

Then I remembered seeing, or perhaps not seeing, the lion on the cliffside. I had not wrestled then. I had only felt warmth like candlelight, like blood in my veins. That was peace. I was far from it now. 

Above me, the stars were clearer, and so thick were they that I swore they all swam together like tiny fish in a pond. 

A twig broke near where my head lay in the grass and I sat up with a gasp. 

Edmund stood there with some charred meat on a stick. “I brought supper.”

I glanced at the fire circle to see all the other had started eating quietly. A blush creeped up my neck. Had I been so deep in contemplation I had not noticed?

“Thank you, my lord,” I said as I reached for the food he offered me. 

To my surprise the king smiled and dropped to a seat beside me. 

I took a bite of the meat, it tasted well enough for something that had tried to kill me that day. 

“Apologies, Lady Arys, but are you this formal with your cousin, Caspian?” Edmund asked me in between bites. 

I resisted the grin that threatened to overtake my features. “Not always, my lord. During our lessons we often greet each other plainly, and when we fight, I am known to be decreasingly polite.”

“Then, I think it right that we try and address each other the same…” he said, inspecting my features for any sign of protest. When I didn’t give one, he relented and finished, “Arys?” 

I grinned to myself at the way he tried out using my name. It was funny, almost childish. I spent most of my days conversing with adults in very formal settings. Caspian was the only other child I had spent time with at length. Now, to be with another who discouraged the use of titles was strange to me, but amusing. 

“Do you not prefer your title, King Edmund?” I asked, taking the opportunity to tease him. 

He shook his head at the ground smiling. “I confess I am unused to the sound of it.”

“I read that during your previous rule you were quite the diplomat. However did you forget the reading of titles and formalities?”

“It’s complicated,” he said more to himself than to me. 

“Tell me about it,” I suggested. 

“When we came to Narnia the first time, I forgot the life we had before. Memories of where we came from were like a dream to us,” he said. “It wasn’t until we tracked a stag to Lantern Waste that we realized it wasn’t a dream at all.” 

I nodded along as he spoke. Not much of the story made sense to me, but it seemed to relieve him to explain it to me so I urged him to continue. 

“When we returned, I was a child again. There, I have no title. I cannot fight wars or rule people, and there is another who is called King.”

“Can you not take the throne back?” I asked, puzzled. 

He laughed and said, “The throne where I am from is not mine to claim.”

“So you forgot you were King?”

He smiled and shook his head. “The opposite; I could never forget I was king, and neither could Peter.” His smile faded. “But no one else around us knew. There, we’re always being underestimated, disregarded--”

“Overlooked…” I said. 

His eyes met mine and he nodded. 

“I understand.” I drew a deep breath and continued, “It was Caspian IX who put me on the council, young as I was. He wanted me to learn from the Lords so I could be Caspian’s advisor until he marries. Caspian IX is dead now, and the lords and Miraz are powerless to have me removed. Instead, they treat me as if I am invisible. Caspian and my professor are the only ones who never underestimated me. My cousin taught me to fight when the guards refused to look at me. He values my word. He… sees me for what I am.”

We ate quietly for a while. The savory meat was cooked well, and it satisfied me. I licked fat and juice from my fingers until there was nothing left. I tossed the skewer aside. Beside me, Edmund did the same. 

“Arys,” Edmund said slowly, breaking the silence. “What did you see today? At the River Rush?”

I held his gaze carefully and breathed deeply for a moment. I knew not what to say. “I’m not sure what I saw…”

“Do you believe in the oath you made?” he asked carefully. 

At last, I answered, “Yes, with all my heart.”

He nodded thoughtfully and paused a great while. “I think that Caspian is lucky to have you in his counsel, and that Alsan is honored to have your sworn sword,” he said.

“Thank you, my lord,” I replied. 

“Edmund,” he corrected. 

“Thank you, Edmund.”

My body hummed at the compliment. A helpful countenance and a fierce warrior is all I had ever hoped to become during my lifetime. The king had just acknowledged that I was both, and I was honored by it. 

The two of us moved closer to the fire as the evening air chilled and my cloak failed to be enough. Edmund and Peter discussed who would take first watch. I laid awake watching the sky for a while longer. Before my eyes slid shut and sleep consumed me, I said a final prayer for the safety of my cousin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment :)


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, we rose early and made our way to the ford near Beruna. I offered to scout ahead, but for some reason Edmund protested, so we proceeded as a group where Trumpkin suggested we should cross. He was right to believe it was a good position to cross. Unfortunately, it was also a good place to construct a bridge. When we came upon the ford, we found a great number of men felling trees and splitting logs to build a bridge across the river. I caught sight of a catapult and my stomach felt sick. 

Edmund had kept close to me for most of the walk, similar to the day before. Now he was pulling me down by the wrist to crouch beside him behind a pile of logs. The older pevensies observed the scene keenly. 

“They will bring troops into the woods to wage war on the Narnians,” I hissed. 

Edmund heard me, and gave his brother a troubled look. They had another one of their silent conversations. 

The sound of hooves in the dirt, drew our attention. Miraz and Lord Sopespian approached on horseback, passing our position so close I held my breath for fear we would be heard. I exhaled deeply in an attempt to restrain myself. If only I still had my crossbow! I could shoot him now, and this would all be over. 

“That’s him, Lord Miraz” I whispered to Edmund. “And with him is Lord Sopesian. He controls Beruna; these are his men.”

When the horses passed, we moved from our hiding spot and retreated back to the woods. We would have to double back to the ravine. 

As we walked, I found that I felt unwell. The greenery swirled around me like the thoughts in my head. 

“What is it,” Edmund asked gently. 

I started when the boy next to me put a hand on my elbow. We stopped walking and faced each other. My cheeks flushed at the question, and upon glancing around, I saw the others had left us behind. 

“These Lords-- I--,” I said, struggling for words. “The day I left, Sopespian had suspected Lord Miraz. He knows the truth, and speaks against him in private with the other lords. But today he rides beside Miraz and publicly supports a war effort he knows to be false. The people love Caspian, they will fight to avenge him if they think the Narnian’s are guilty.” 

I lifted my eyes to meet Edmund’s. 

His expression was concerned, but he seemed to understand. I was weary of the deception. I was weary of the powerful getting away with it. 

“Are there other men who oppose Lord Miraz?” Edmund asked. 

“There are a few, but Miraz has cut them down one by one, and the ones who are alive today will be arrested, surely. I’d wager Miraz is plotting for a coronation this very moment.”

“When we reach the camp, Peter and Caspian will form a plan. Maybe Caspian already has. Miraz will be overthrown and face justice.”

I wanted to believe Edmund’s words so badly, I did. But it felt so impossible. The men of Beruna were putting up the bridge so quickly, and their catapults were more advanced than the Narnian’s weapons. And our group still had a way to travel. 

As if reading my mind, Edmund concluded, “We have to get there first.”

“Yes, my lord.” 

He gestured for me to go ahead of him, and together we made our way back to the others. 

By the time we reunited with the group, they had already reached the gorge and found a passage down into it. 

Puzzled, I questioned Trumpkin how they’d found it, to which he muttered, “Don’t ask.”

We trekked along it with each passing hour. 

As we walked, the conversation shifted between lighter subjects, it seemed to distract from the weight of this morning’s discovery. Trumpkin revealed the revolutionary camp was at a place called Aslan’s How. Trumpkin asked me what I knew of the How, which was close to nothing, then Lucy asked me what I did know of the Golden Age. I told her fondly about my professor and his tales. Then Susan asked me what other course of study I pursued. She seemed very interested in academics. By the time night had fallen, and camp was made, I was pointing out constellations in the expanding star view. 

“That one there is Tarva, the lord of Victory,” I said. Susan was drawn close to me to see the bright star. 

“And that one is Alambil, lady of peace,” I said. “They eclipsed the night Caspian fled. We had planned to watch it together.”

She turned her attention to my face. “What is he like-- Prince Caspian?”

“Kind, brave, strong.” I smiled fondly at her. “He’s intelligent too. I think our professor taught himself new things just to keep up with the two of us.”

Something warm flickered in her eyes at the image, curiosity or hope perhaps. Whatever it was, I didn’t have time to ponder it before Lucy bounded up to us with a handful of wildflowers and ivy. 

“Lady Arys?”

“Yes?”

“Would it be alright if I braided your hair?” the young queen asked me sweetly. 

I stuttered for a moment before looking at Susan. 

The taller girl was grinning knowingly. 

Finally I said, “I don’t see why not.”

The three of us took a seat by the fire, and Lucy poured the flowers she had held into my lap for safe keeping. She situated herself behind me, and untied the leather strap that had kept my hair back until now. She untangled the old plait and began running her small, childlike hands through the thick snarls of dark hair. The sensation calmed me for a reason I could not place. When she was done combing through it with her fingertips, the black strands spilled over my shoulders like water. The length of it almost reached my elbows. 

“Look, Susan,” said Lucy in awe. 

“It’s very pretty,” said Susan. 

I blushed under the attention. “I’ve not had my hair plaited by someone else in some time. I usually do it myself.”

Lucy seemed satisfied by this explanation and got to work weaving a crown in a four strand plait. 

“When I’m done, will you do mine next?” Lucy asked.

“Forgive me, lady, but I must admit, I’m awful at plaiting on anyone else.” I paused thoughtfully before adding, “Caspian’s mother tried to teach me once.” I broke into a laugh and said, “My cousin let me practice on him. He had long hair even then. I remember it looked awful; the soldiers in the training field teased him, but he wore it like that for the whole day, just for me.”

I could feel Lucy smiling behind me. Every now and again she plucked a flower from the pool in my lap and added it to the braid by the stem. 

“Do you remember the way Mrs. Beaver would plait our hair, Susan?” Lucy asked after a while. 

“Yes,” said the queen, smiling. “She did a great many plaits on us for those summer banquets.” She sounded as if she were in a dream, how deep in the memory she was.

“Could you do one for Arys?” Lucy inquired politely. 

Susan sat up, and took Lucy’s place behind me. She picked up where Lucy left off, and wove the length of my hair into a wide, complicated four strand plait. When she was done, it was weighty with flowers and ivy. 

“Well done, Susan,” said Lucy. She put a hand on my shoulder and said, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, my lady,” I said and ducked my head gracefully at the compliment. 

“Excuse me, Lu. Do you mind if I borrow Arys for a moment?” It was Edmund who spoke, standing beside our trio. 

In my peripheral, I saw Lucy and Susan look at each other, and soon Lucy was shooing us away. Together, we strolled until we were out of earshot of the group, but still within sight. To my surprise, Edmund handed over my knapsack. 

“I’d almost forgotten about that,” I said, beginning to rifle through it. 

“I figured you’d like it back now,” offered Edmund. 

I smiled and thanked him. I’d lost my crossbow and had little use for my bolts, but the dress and shirt I’d packed were still in good condition within. 

A chill ran through me then, and I glanced over to see Peter observing us with a wary expression. Edmund followed my gaze up to catch him too. 

Finally, I whispered, “Why must he always look at me like that?”

The young king smiled widely, confusion disappearing. “I thought he was beginning to like you.”

“Like me?” I asked in disbelief. 

Edmund laughed, and Peter looked away with a scowl, not having heard the discussion. 

“I meant what I said before,” Edmund told me with earnest. “Narnia is lucky to have you in its service. Peter is lucky too, he’s just taking his time to figure it out.”

I thought about this for a little while, until I smiled in turn and pointed out, “You seem to have much faith in me, and yet, you have not seen me fight in a battle.”

Edmund shook his head. “I do not need to. You sacrificed yourself for my sister. You took an oath. These are virtues of a warrior.”

“Virtue does not win battles.”

“Yours will,” he said without missing a beat. I opened my mouth to argue, but he said, “Besides, your professor could have sent you with any other relic, and he chose to send you with a blade. That tells me all I need to know.”

By the time he was finished speaking, a blush had seared itself into my cheeks. How was it that this lord always managed to leave me simmering in flattery? The Telmarine men had never paid me such compliments. Not soldiers nor lords, no matter how many victories I claimed in their witness. 

While I stammered for a way to thank him for the compliment, Edmund’s hand reached up into the space between us. He brushed a loose strand of hair off my cheek and caught the flower petal that fell in the shift. I held my breath as his eyes traced my face like charcoal on paper. 

His hand occupied the space between us hesitantly. The motion reminded me of the way he’d reached for my cloak ties the day he pulled me from the river. It had been cold and wet then; now it was warm and dry. 

I broke the silence and said, “We should duel sometime. I’d like to see how I fare against the best swordsman in all of Narnia.”

Edmund laughed at this, lowered his hand, and replied, “I’m sure we will. When we reach the camp.”

I nodded, somewhat awkwardly before at last, he gestured for us to return to the group. 

I ignored the fluttering in my belly and began unstrapping the sword from my back to settle in for the night. I reclined onto my back to stare up at the sky. Tendrils of smoke from the fire dissipated gently into the stars, my thoughts wandered. 

Lucy and Susan had reclined on the other side of me, they talked of astronomy and centaurs. Peter and Edmund discussed the watch in hushed tones. Trumpkin hummed some jaunty tune to himself when he thought no one was paying attention. Eventually, the weight of my aching body found rest in the ground below me, and I sunk into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment :)


	7. Chapter 7

I heard them all around me. Like echoing whispers, the flutter of leaves kissing in the breeze. I strained to listen to the words, but caught nothing in full. And beneath it all was a song unlike any I had ever heard. It filled me with such warmth like the sweetest of wines. 

The faithful one--

\--Refined in tongues of fire. 

Golden--

Bound in oath.

He will have his justice. 

There was a hand over my mouth. My eyelids split open, and my stomach rolled disturbed by the words I heard but didn’t understand. There was no more song nor rustling. Rays of light were cutting through the still trees as I struggled to get my bearings. 

It was Edmund. His hand gently pressing against my lips. I watched as he lifted his other fingers slowly to his own lips in a shushing gesture, before lifting his hand away from my face. I breathed heavily; I was wrought with adrenaline. He passed my sword to me, and I took it quickly. 

“Lucy is missing. Peter’s gone after her,” he hissed. 

I wasted no time drawing the Narnian blade, and rushed through the forest with the company. Edmund’s sword was also drawn, and Susan had her bow at the ready. I heard the clashing of steel at a distance, and fear struck my heart. If Telmarine scouts had taken the Queen-- 

“No, stop!” It was Lucy’s voice. 

We sprinted through the trees. The sounds of my footsteps matched the pounding of my heart. 

“Peter!” Susan shouted sharply.

I saw Lucy standing, looking shaken. Susan rushed up the incline to her, then slowed. Edmund held his arm behind him as if to shield me from what was ahead, but I would not pause. I followed Trumpkin and joined the protective formation around Lucy, my fingers tightening on the grip of my sword. My cloak fluttered about my legs as I came to a halt in a fighting stance. 

There were so many figures I didn’t know where to look first. Minotaurs, centaurs, dwarves, and wolves. All manner of creatures in great numbers stood among the trees. Their weapons were drawn and centered on-- 

“Caspian?”

“Arys?” 

His dark eyes were on me, curious and confused. He stared at me, then at my drawn sword, then at Peter’s sword which for some reason was in his hands. 

“High King Peter?” Caspian said. 

“I believe you called,” Peter said sarcastically.

My face was flushed, and I struggled to comprehend the situation we’d just been thrust into.

“Well yes, but… I thought you’d be older.” 

Were things not so tense, I could have laughed. I’d thought the same when I first realized who the children were. 

“Well, if you’d like, we can come back in a few years.” Peter was motioning to step away from Caspian. 

“No! No, that’s alright. You’re just…” Caspian said, looking at our company. “You’re not exactly what I expected.” 

Although his gaze paused on me briefly in question, his attention ultimately settled on Queen Susan, to my surprise. 

Edmund gazed warily at one of the minotaurs and said, “Neither are you.”

Among the crowd, a badger said, “A common enemy unites even the oldest of foes.”

“We have anxiously awaited your return, my liege,” said a mouse. “Our hearts and swords are at your service.”

My heartbeat was beginning to settle, and I felt dizzy, as I did when I’d had too much to drink. There were so many Narnians, animals, all of them sentient. It was impossible to count them. I suddenly felt foolish for having doubted if there would be enough to overthrow Miraz. The times I’d questioned our chances of victory seemed like a silly daydream. 

I remembered distantly the day in the council room when Miraz described the surviving Narnians as if they were vermin. The sight before me was no plague. These were a people, surviving in strength. Warriors come to fight in defense of their homes and their values. It was their history that I’d become so fascinated with and their God to whom I’d pledged myself. 

I was in awe of it. But then I saw the look that passed over Caspian’s face, and the sense of wonder within me eased away. This wasn’t a childhood fantasy come true, this was a war party. 

At my feet, the mouse was making known his virtues as a knight of Narnia to Queen Lucy. 

“Well, at least we know some of you can handle a blade,” responded Peter. 

“Yes, indeed,” said the mouse to Peter. “And I have recently put it to good use acquiring weapons for your army, sire.”

“Good. Because we’re going to need every sword we can get,” Peter said. I did not miss the challenging look in his eye as he said it. 

“Well then, you’ll probably be wanting yours back,” said my cousin, and he held Rhindon out for Peter to take. 

Peter turned away to regroup with his siblings, and the crowd began to carry on their march back to the camp. 

Caspian and I were left to stare at each other. I suddenly felt unsure of myself. It had only been a couple of days since we’d last seen each other, since we had sat through a lesson or fought in the practice field. Yet so much had happened since then. 

For a moment, he looked at me like I wasn’t who he remembered. Perhaps he was right to think so; I felt more wild now, more Narnian. 

Finally, his gaze softened into familiar fondness, and as if a dam broke, I rushed towards him and pulled him into a crushing embrace. His studded leather vest dug into the soft skin of my face, but I didn’t care. I needed him closer, to know it was real. His arms were slung around my shoulders and squeezing me tightly. 

“Arys,” he said. 

“I thought you’d been killed,” I cut him off. My eyes were squeezed shut. “Glozelle, he returned with a body on his horse-- I thought--”

“It’s alright,” he said gently. “You found me.”

I pulled away from him. My head was spinning. I had a million questions and not a clue which one to ask first. 

It seems my cousin did as well. “It appears you found others along the way,” Caspian said, eyeing the Pevensies over my shoulder. 

I glanced back to see Edmund watching me warily, and Susan spying as well. Her expression was harder to read. She looked at me like I was a puzzle she couldn’t quite figure out. 

I turned back to Caspian. “Professor sent me to rescue the dwarf,” I said. “The soldiers were going to drown him near Cair Paravel. When I arrived, the Kings and Queens were already there.”

The company began to march, and as we walked, I explained how I had gone to the ruins of Cair Paravel and how I had traveled with the Pevensies to meet him. I withheld the details of the bear, and my oath, and the strange things I had seen at the gorge and in my dreams-- as I was not yet sure of their meaning. 

In turn, he told me of his escape into the forest, meeting Trufflehunter, Nikabrick, and Reepicheep the mouse. He told me of his forum with the Narnians and his promise to help them take back their freedom. I realized he was changing also. 

“We saw the bridge at the river Rush,” I said eventually. “Lord Sopespian is helping him build it, and I’ve no doubt he’s pledging faithful men to fight, too.”

“I am aware of the bridge,” Caspian said. “We raided the camp last night and stole weapons from them.”

“Stars above,” I murmured. “That’s what the mouse meant.”

He nodded. My stomach sunk. 

“Then, Lord Sopespian knows you are not a hostage.”

Caspian made a confused face. 

I stopped walking to face him. “Miraz has told the people you were abducted. They think they are fighting to avenge you.”

Caspian’s eyes fell and he considered the weight of my words. 

“What does this mean?” he asked me. 

I paused carefully before I answered, “If the lords know you are alive, then they may be more willing to oppose a war against the Narninans.” 

The words should have been hopeful but...

“Why do you look so worried then? Is this not a good thing?” he asked. 

“Because…” I said, “Revealing yourself as the instigator of the revolution makes you a traitor against the Telmarine crown.”

“It is my crown,” Caspian said forcefully. 

I sighed at his lack of understanding. It was all I could do not to sound frustrated or, worse, hopeless.

“Not in the eyes of the council. It doesn’t matter that you’re alive now, your claim is forfeit,” I explained. “Miraz can formally make himself king.”

I turned away from him, letting him contemplate my words and the consequences of his actions. 

On one hand, Miraz had already been plotting for Caspian’s throne, and Caspian just made it easier for our uncle. True, some lords may oppose the war, but they no longer had a viable alternative for leadership. They would have no choice but to let Miraz ascend the throne. 

On the other hand, formalities of the council didn’t really matter to us now. We were at war with Miraz, and whoever was alive at the end of this would have the crown, independent of who had it first. If Caspian couldn’t take it as rightful heir, he would take it as victor. 

As I weighed these things in my mind, the company marched closer to the How. Caspian seemed to shake himself from his own fog of contemplation and was now speaking to Peter about the more practical aspects of war-making. Battlements, training fields, etc. It gave me temporary relief to see them cooperating. 

I knew when I found Caspian I would need to step further into my role as his aid. The duty had been placed upon me since before I could remember; now I could only hope to do well. However, I suddenly found myself unprepared for the pressure of it all. Caspian needed to learn the formalities of the council, he needed to control his impulses, he needed so much. And the burden of guiding him was mine to bear. 

I knew my cousin. I’d said before that he would make a good king, and that was true. But he was young, and although I was younger still, I was wiser and had learned restraint. 

Complications with Miraz aside, I was not blind to the budding rivalry between Peter and Caspian. I dreaded this since the moment Peter tested me, that he would come to test Caspian as well. Caspian was quick to fight-- no-- defend. He wouldn’t back down from Peter’s challenge. 

I was struck by the irony of it. The day I left, I had sat in the council wondering if that’s all there was to politics, men arguing with each other over a crown, a throne. I wondered if they ever grew tired of it. I thought I had escaped. Apparently I hadn’t. Competition festered even here, in the idyllic Narnian woods. 

Lucy sidled up to me then in the walking order. She was perhaps a head shorter than me. 

“Are you alright?” she asked. 

The question took me by surprise. 

“I will endure,” I said. 

“I heard you say that before,” she said softly, “right after you almost drowned.”

I wanted to laugh, but I wasn’t sure it was appropriate. 

She continued, “Do you feel that way now?”

Although she didn’t use the word drowning I understood her meaning. The candid question struck me deeply, and I wasn’t sure what to say. I did feel overwhelmed; but I was caught between telling her so, and lying so that the queen wouldn’t worry for me. 

“I feel…” I began, but I could not conjure a proper word for it. Instead I settled to say, “I do not feel at peace.”

“You and Edmund are the same,” she said, somewhat sly. 

Something about this unexpected observation made me smirk. 

“In what way, my queen?” I asked. 

“Well, to begin, you’re both obsessed with your swords--”

I did laugh at that, heartily. 

“--And you both give good judgement.”

I nodded along with her, honored by the compliment. 

Then she paused, and her brow crinkled thoughtfully, like she was remembering something. “But you both get the same look, like you’re heavy… He’s so grave sometimes.” Her voice dripped with concern for her brother. 

I looked up from the path then. My eyes searched for the young king in the trail of Narnians. It only took a moment for me to find his messy, raven hair and his blue shirt. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword somewhat lazily while he spoke to his companions. He did not look grave to me now, but I could imagine. 

Lucy squinted in the glowing sunlight and smiled. “The graveness goes away when he talks to you.”

“Does it?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, “I think we all see it, even Trumpkin-- the way you’re drawn to each other. Ever since he pulled you from the river.”

“Maybe that’s why Peter is always scowling at me,” I said, nudging her in the side. 

She laughed lightly. 

Edmund glanced over his shoulder at us, and my cheeks grew warm. 

“See?” she said.

We both dissolved into more giggles, and for the next few hours, the sweetness of the summer air intoxicated me. The company continued walking until it was late afternoon. I thought of my anxieties no longer. I did not fear the future. Lucy and I basked in the golden sun among wild, valiant creatures. The flowers in my hair shuddered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this chapter for a while, I just didn't feel ready to post it. Thank you for being patient. More is coming soon! Please comment!


	8. Chapter 8

The How was a structure more massive than any I had ever seen before. The Telmarines had nothing so holy and ancient. The hill stood tall against the backdrop of sky and trees, unlike the war camp I had envisioned, and shimmered with mosses and grass. The very ground seemed to throb under the Pevensie’s feet and I followed them helplessly to the entrance of the How. A living monument. I did not feel worthy to stand at its base. A quick glance at Caspian’s face told me that a sliver of him felt the same. 

I held my breath when a unit of centaurs presented arms at the How’s entrance. I had been told for so long by my uncle and grandfathers that Narnia was wild and savage. And over time I learned this was not true, at least not in the way we thought. But this was the first time I could witness with my own eyes the reverence of the Narnian people for their monarchs. There had never been such respect and grace for the Telmarine kings, who ruled their councilors with fear and viciousness. Our thrones with their stars overhead felt false and distant in my memory compared to this bold, pure homecoming. 

The kings and queens did look like they were coming home. They proceeded ahead of the returning company, as was their rightful place. Caspian and I fell to the background, and I started to see myself from a different point of view as one would in a dream. 

My cousin and I followed the Pevensies under the Centaur’s blades, and a few of them caught my eyes curiously. It was all I could do not to let my lips part in wonder at the sight of so many Narnians, and they seemed as stunned to see me as I was to see them. 

A few of them scrutinized the sword on my back, and I remembered Trumpkin’s assumption that I had stolen it. I knew they must be pondering the same sentiment, but there was nothing I could do now to explain...

We disappeared into the shade of the How, and I felt their eyes on my back. A flower petal tickled the shell of my ear, and I remembered my hair. Would any of them recognize the braids? I wondered. The pattern was historical, even to them, but they knew it was not a Telmarine design. 

Caspian guided us through the How, and I followed absently, trying not to hear the whispers of those around us. The golden glow of torchlight cast shadows on the faces of fauns, dwarves, and centaurs as their heads turned our way. We passed teams of them smithing weapons and armor for the army, and I shook myself from my anxious thoughts. 

I was here for a reason, and I would prove myself to them in the fight to come. I would be a soldier too. Caspian and I were different, but we belonged here more than we had ever belonged in Telmar. 

Caspian began explaining what he had done to organize the Narnians so far, and our little group came to a stop in the center of the room. As he spoke, pride for him swelled within me, and I felt myself return to my body. My dream state was ending. 

“It may not be what you are used to, but it is defensible,” my cousin said. 

I reached for his arm and squeezed it. “You’ve done well, my lord.” 

“Peter,” Susan called, appearing at the end of the hall. “You may want to see this.” 

I didn’t miss the way he looked at the Queen. He was entranced. My cheeks grew warm with the weight of this new secret. 

Caspian took up a torch and led them deeper into the dark corridors. Edmund looked at me and nodded for me to follow. The crimson in my skin burned deeper, and I was glad to be in the shadows. 

What we found in the darkness there, explained to me why this place felt so ancient even from the outside. The walls were covered in carved portraits of the Pevensies. Each scene was familiar to me. The stories of the Golden Age and the end of the hundred year winter splayed out, immortalized in the flesh of the earth since the How itself was built. 

“It’s us,” Susan said. 

I traced the faun and lantern gently with my fingertips. 

Lucy looked to Caspian, “What is this place?” 

I turned around to face him. He was staring between our faces, searching. 

“You don’t know?”

Suspicion budded in me, but I could not speak. 

Caspian led us down corridors and stairs, through chambers black as night. Along the way Edmund took up a torch as well. I shuffled at the back of the group, just behind him. When we came upon the last staircase, he offered his hand to me, as he had many times in the forest. I took his in mine, but our eyes did not meet. I stared into the darkness which swallowed me whole. 

Caspian led the way through the chamber and lighted a great fire that spread along the walls, revealing deeper carvings in the walls. 

My breath caught in my lungs, and a lump formed in my throat. In the center of the chamber wall, staring me in the face, was the lion from the wood. The whole chamber glowed now. The split stone of the Table stood between us and the wall. The carvings on the side of it told the Deep Magic. 

Susan and Lucy had stood here before in this very place with the body of The King hundreds of years ago. Here, he had been sacrificed and resurrected. Mice had chewed him loose from his bonds and were rewarded with voices like the other talking beasts. And Edmund… all of it had been for him. The history unraveled in front of my eyes. 

I ached. 

Lucy approached the table and laid her small hand on the stone. 

“He must know what he’s doing,” said the girl softly. 

Peter considered her words, but ultimately said, “I think it’s up to us now.” 

The breath I drew was shaky and unsteady. Lucy circled the table, tracing the carved letters with her fingertips, as I had the lantern in the corridors. I itched to touch it too, but it felt wrong. 

Unworthy, I thought sourly. 

We stood solemnly in the chamber for a moment longer, before Caspian guided us out. Although I did not want to leave yet, I did.


	9. Chapter 9

Caspian made me eat. I had been so distracted lately by the recent epiphanies I had forgotten my physical hunger. I hadn’t had a full meal in several days, but in the light of the war camp’s fire my prince sat me down and pushed a wooden plate into my hands. After the days of fasting, I did not anticipate being able to finish what he’d given me, but I smiled and accepted anyways. 

It was strange being alone with my cousin again after so many days apart. Caspian and I had never been apart for so long before. Although I was grateful to be back at his side, I did not know what thoughts I should share with him. 

So instead of talking or thinking, I put food in my mouth. 

There was bread, hard cheese, and a small roasted bird. I tore at the meat with my fingertips, and juice ran down my hand. When the bird was gone, I soaked up the salty fat with my bread crust and ate it too. 

As I filled my belly, Caspian started telling me about what he’d told the kings about earlier that day during the march-- how many men, how many weapons, the defensibility of our position, who we had in the forest spying. I listened attentively. 

“The men on the watch have caught sight of Telmarine scouts,” Caspian said. 

“Have we attempted to intercept them?” I asked. 

“We have not been able,” the prince said, shaking his head. 

“The bridge will be done soon, then, and they will target our position,” I said thoughtfully. “I could take a watch, and put an end to this spying.” I smirked.

“I need you with me, Arys.”

“I suppose you’re right, my lord. Still, I do not like that they have been able to observe us. Are you sure I should not dress as a phantom and scare them off?”

Caspian laughed at the image, and for a moment I remembered when we were children dressing up as all manner of lords and ladies, ghosts and creatures, to which he rewarded me with that same light-hearted sound. I remembered playing the phantom herald days ago in the wood near Cair Paravel. 

“You have become less tame among the Narnians, cousin.”

“I have never been tame, Caspian. Quiet, yes. Restrained, yes. But never tame.” 

My plate was empty now, and I looked about the cavernous hall. 

Over my shoulder, the hilt of my sword glinted in the firelight. Caspian caught sight of the lion’s head, and reached over to trace it. 

“How did you get this?” he asked softly. 

“The professor, before I left to follow you.”

He held his palm open between us, and I thought of Edmund and grew warm. 

My cousin said, “May I see it?”

I undid the buckle and straps across my chest and pulled the sheathed blade around my body. The hilt brushed my braid and a flower petal drifted onto the floor between us. I placed the blade in his hands. 

He looked to me, before turning it over in his palms and drawing it out of its sheath. It’s hilt and pommel were like Rhindon, Peter’s sword. The blade was similar width, and perfectly balanced. It shined, free of stain or imperfection. 

“I thought you preferred narrower blades, Arys.” He was teasing me to hide his jealousy, I realized. His attention returned to the sword and his gaze was enraptured with wonder and fascination. 

It shined in the light of the cavern, reflecting the flames off of it in a lighter golden color. The color of a lion’s mane, or the sun, or a star. Unlike Rhindon, there was no script or prophecy on the blade. 

“Have you used it much?” he asked. 

“I slayed a bear with it, protecting the queen Lucy.” I paused before continuing, “And I swore an oath by it.”

He looked at me fearfully and asked, “What kind of oath?”

I was silent for a moment. I could not tell him of the Lion in the wood; I could not make him see what I had seen. He could only understand if he were to see Aslan himself, and that was impossible. Except...

I took his hand and led him away from the cavern. We followed the passages into the darkness until we were once again in the burning light and depth of the How. I stood at the foot of the stone table, a split altar. Gently, I laid my hands on each half and felt peace. Caspian and I were still as we watched the carving on the wall waver with every shadow and flicker of light. 

“I pledged loyalty to Him, and swore a knight’s vow to defend His people.” I tore my eyes away to look at Caspian. “There is only one way we can taste victory against Miraz and that’s through Aslan. This fight will mean nothing if it is not for His glory.”

We stood there in silence for some time. He weighed my words, searched my face, and remembered all the stories. 

“You always were the more faithful one,” he said. “I was curious… but you, Arys, believed it whole-heartedly.”

I floundered. “Caspian--”

“Will you still stand as my counselor?” He asked. His dark eyes were suddenly saddened. “Without you, there is no one who could make me a more worthy king.”

“Of course! I do not believe the oath I have taken dissolves my intention to serve you. I think it increases my duty, from offering you good judgement in a forum to actively serving as a swordhand in the field of battle,” I said. 

These words seemed to comfort him some. His sadness waned, and I reached for his hand. 

“Besides, I think both of these are roles I would have ended up taking anyways. Oath or not.”

This brought a smile to his face, and the warmth returned to his eyes. 

“Indeed,” he said. “I could think of nothing that would keep you from a battlefield.”

We both laughed at that. He handed my sword back to me.


	10. Chapter 10

It was late in the evening. Lucy and I managed to find clean water in the camp to rinse our faces with, and we were currently bent over a basin trying to feel clean again. I had removed my leathers and changed shirts, and the white fabric billowed freely around me. It felt refreshing to be stripped of my armor for a moment, as comfortable as I was in it. I’d worn it out of anticipation of an attack when I left the castle. Knowing I didn’t need to put it on right away was a minor relief. 

I bent at the waist and splashed my face. As the water in the basin stilled, I caught glimpses of my rippled reflection. I looked like Caspian, I thought absently. Black hair, dark eyes, warm skin. My aunts used to say I had strong features, even for a child. 

At the castle, I had a mirror and vanity. Prunaprismia sat me in front of it once, plaited my hair in a moment of uncharacteristic gentleness. She said I looked as a true Telmarine lady should. She almost sounded proud of me. It was that week we found out she was with child. 

I felt a splatter of raindrops on the side of my face, disrupting the stillness of my reflection in the water. Lucy was grinning like a cat. 

“You looked grave again,” she said. 

“I was, wasn’t I?” I said. My lips slowly curled into a smile. 

A flower petal floated down from my hair and into the basin. 

I spared a glance at my reflection again. This time I didn’t look at the darkness of my features; I didn’t look Telmarine. I saw the flyaway hairs surrounding my face like a halo. I saw the flowers in my hair, their pinkness matching the flush of my wet cheeks. I saw something molten in my own dark eyes. I looked like a wild thing. 

“Shall I get Edmund?” Lucy asked innocently. 

I hummed absently. 

“To make the graveness go away,” she teased. 

My face felt feverish. 

“Lucy?” 

The boy’s voice behind me made me jump. 

“Peter’s called a meeting. You better come quickly,” said Edmund. 

“Just a minute,” said Lucy. 

His eyes flicked to me briefly, and he gave a sharp nod. Droplets of water ran down my face and onto my white shirt. 

I turned my face from Edmund to see Lucy smiling sweetly at us. Edmund was already striding away into passages to the stone table room. I was left simmering in the wake of it. 

“Better now?” she asked me. 

I slung my sword over my shoulder and tightened the buckle, forgoing the chestplate entirely for now. I wiped my face with the sleeve of my shirt, while Lucy found a linen for her own. Once we were both put together again, we made our way to the stone table room. 

I nodded to Caspian as I entered, and then to Peter. Susan was there as was Edmund. Then filed in everyone else. Fauns and centaurs, Reepicheep, Trumpkin, Trufflehunter, a squirrel who introduced himself as Pattertwig. There was also a very large bear who did not escape my notice, but Lucy gripped my hand tightly, and I mimicked her bravery. Glenstorm and the centaurs presented themselves. The Narnians filled the edges of the room, giving Peter the floor. 

Lucy used my hand for support and seated herself comfortably on the surface of the stone table. She invited me up beside her, but I shook my head in gentle refusal, electing to lean my back against it instead. 

Once everyone had entered and was comfortable, Peter began: “It’s only a matter of time. Miraz’ men and war machines are on their way. That means those same men aren’t protecting his castle.”

The company listened attentively. 

Reepicheep asked nobly, “What do you propose we do, sire?”

Caspian and Peter spoke at the same time, and I almost choked. I gave my prince a warning look, and he conceded. 

“Our only hope,” Peter continued, “is to strike them before they strike us.”

My heart stuttered at the thought of returning to that cursed place. Not to mention the castle was historically unchallenged. 

Caspian spoke my mind, saying, “But that’s crazy, no one has ever taken that castle.”

“There’s always a first time,” Peter challenged. 

I could have cursed. I had seen this coming but had hoped it wouldn’t. Frustration squirmed under my skin, and my mind swirled with a million questions.

“We’ll have the element of surprise,” said Trumpkin. 

My cousin argued, “But we have the advantage here.”

“If we dig in, we could probably hold them off indefinitely,” Susan defended. 

I hadn’t predicted the queen to side against her brother. I filed the curious action away to ponder later.

“I, for one, feel safer underground,” said the badger. 

The company was split. 

“Look,” said Peter to Caspian, “I appreciate what you’ve done, but this isn’t a fortress. It’s a tomb.”

I felt my patience for these two slipping away. I breathed deeply, and let the ridges of the table behind me dig into my back. 

“Yes, and if the Telmarines are smart, they’ll just starve us out,” said Edmund. 

I looked at Caspian meaningfully. The Telmarines were smart, when they wanted to be. 

“We could collect nuts,” Pattertwig suggested. 

“Oh, yes, and throw them at the Telmarines!” said Reepicheep.”Shut up.” He turned to Peter and added, “I think you know where I stand on this, Sire.”

Peter addressed the centaur now: “If I can get your troops in, can you handle the guards?”

“Or die trying, my liege,” Glenstorm said solemnly. 

Lucy’s free hand, which until now had been resting gently on my shoulder tensed. 

“That’s what I’m worried about.” 

The sorrow in the queen’s voice made me shiver. 

“Sorry?” asked Peter. 

“Well, you’re all acting like there are only two options: Dying here, or dying there.”

I swallowed thickly as Peter looked past me to stare down his sister. 

“I’m not sure you’ve really been listening, Lu.”

“No,” she argued, “you’re not listening. Or have you forgotten who really defeated the White Witch, Peter?”

I thought of the lion in the wood and shuddered. 

Before Peter could respond, Caspian broke in. “What do you have to say, Arys?” 

Everyone looked to me. Even in Miraz’s council, I had rarely been asked to share my thoughts, not when it came to command of the armies. The Narnians waited for my response. Caspian nodded. This is why I had come. 

I cleared my throat and uttered, “Caspian is right, no one has ever taken the castle... But we are not equipped for a siege,” I said, shaking my head. I breathed in and out and considered my next words carefully. “I agree with Queen Lucy; I think we must wait for Aslan.”

The room grew still. 

Peter’s voice was final when he finally said, “I think we’ve waited for Aslan long enough.”


	11. Chapter 11

The objectives of the raid were clear: to rescue Professor Cornelius as well as get Miraz to surrender before any alarm was raised. I argued for some time that it was not wise, and that it would be difficult to dispatch so many guards without a trace. Secretly, I almost preferred to face the Telmarine army in a field of open battle before sneaking in under the cover of night to fight, but I was not heard. After a few tense looks, I relented and offered information about patrols and drawings of the castle for the kings and queens. 

Some one hundred and fifty Narnians were pledged to fight in the coming raid. We were split between five groups: Edmund to give a signal, Peter and Susan to take Miraz hostage until he surrendered, Reepicheep’s division of mice to secure the gatehouse, Caspian to rescue our professor and lower the drawbridge from the courtyard, and Glenstorm’s division with his kin and the other Narnians to storm the Castle once we could gain them clear entry. I was still confused as to how they were planning to sneak the first teams of us in, especially Edmund, who would give the signal from one of the Castle’s tower, but I couldn’t bring myself to question it. I had more important points of inquiry. 

“And what shall my assignment be, my lord,” I asked after the other troops had been dismissed. 

Peter looked up from the drawings to look at me pensively. 

“Someone should stay behind to guard Lucy,” he said. “She’s too young to fight with us now.”

Lucy, Caspian, and Edmund all began to protest at once. 

“Peter!”

“She knows the castle better than any of us,” Edmund said. “And you would be a fool not to put her sword to good use.”

“I need Arys with me,” Caspian said. 

My mouth was open, but no sound came out. My fists clenched at my side, and my chest ached with betrayal. How could Peter ask this of me? I let the others speak for me, rightfully scandalized by the idea of leaving me out of what could be my only confrontation with Miraz. 

Peter stood his ground against the arguments. 

I held my ground too. I rolled my shoulders back, and planted my feet. 

“It is my right to challenge Miraz, as it is Caspian’s right,” I said darkly. 

Peter remained quiet across from me. Caspian’s face betrayed his own anger, and I thought for a moment that Caspian’s rivalry with him would reach its climax over this singular issue. 

“She belongs with us, Peter, and you know it,” Susan said gently but firmly. 

“Am I supposed to leave Lucy by herself?” He cried. 

“Do you not trust your own camp of soldiers to guard the queen?” I said. 

My tongue was sharp and quick as a whip. I should have held it in. I should have remembered ‘once a king of Narnia…’ I should have nodded gracefully as I did many times before the Telmarine court… but I couldn’t. Not now. This was too important for me to take lying down. 

Something in Peter’s eyes flared, but before he could reproach me, Edmund was standing between us, and I was met with the back of his soft blue shirt. 

“Arys will accompany me to dispatch the guard and secure the tower,” he said. 

I didn’t see his or Peter’s face when he spoke, but I saw Caspian, and his expression was troubled. I knew he wanted me with him personally, but Edmund was pulling rank with this request, and that was something Caspian couldn’t do. If I was going to raid the castle, it would have to be on Edmund’s terms. 

“Then she is your responsibility,” Peter said. 

With that, we were dismissed, and I found myself fleeing the room so as not to further lose my temper. 

Lucy gave me a weak smile as I exited. She had been pleased that I had agreed with her earlier, about waiting for Aslan, but now she was disheartened. The whole plan worried her, and her brother’s petty disagreements displeased her still. 

As I climbed higher in the How, I discovered a craving for fresh air, and before I knew it, I was out in the lawn. The clear night air filled my lungs, and the sky glittered with familiar constellations. I tried to count them with every breath. 

I knew Peter was wary of me. He was responsible for the protection of his family, it only made sense that he did not trust me. But was I not also responsible for the safety of my cousin and prince, Caspian? How could I protect him if we were far from each other? Peter knew it was my right to participate in the raid on the castle, and still he tried to shut me out. I needed to prove myself further, but he wasn’t giving me a chance. 

I groaned in frustration. I needed a release. 

Without thinking, I reached overhead and pulled my sword from the sheath on my back. The blade reflected starlight, and I inspected it as if it would whisper to me all the things I wished to know. My fingers tightened on the handle, and the lion’s head shined beneath my grip. 

I still had not trained with this blade. When I slew the bear, it felt natural to wield, but I had not done any drills with it. I decided to practice with it now. Alone, in the lawn, under the light of the moon, I did all the drills I could remember. I switched hands and practiced with my left. My strength was equal on both sides. 

After a while, I was panting and sweating, and I realized I had no anger left in me. 

I collapsed on my back in the grass. 

The blades of grass tilted in a light breeze, and the ground seemed to shiver. There were no flowers left in my braid. 

Soft footsteps approached me. I looked to my side to see Edmund walking evenly, hand on the hilt of his own sword. 

I sat up. 

“You’re quite good,” he said.

“My lord…”

“We should see about getting you a second sword, since you can handle two,” he said. 

I stuttered, embarrassed he had seen me fighting thin air. I wanted to admit, ambidextrous as I may be, I had little experience wielding two swords at once, but I couldn’t.

He sat down on the grass beside me, and picked at it childishly before finally saying, “I apologize for Peter. He shouldn’t have said what he did.”

I swallowed. “He is the High King of Narnia,” I said. “He is allowed to disagree with me if he chooses.”

“Still,” Edmund said. “He had no right to order you remain here. You deserve to fight with us.”

“You are right...and I was wrong to snap at him,” I admitted. “I owe you all an apology.”

“No need,” he said. “It is behind us.”

Edmund turned his gaze up to the sky and I followed, eventually leaning back into the ground. 

I said softly, “Thank you, for your defense. I know you don’t really need help securing the high tower.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “You are welcome. I know it is not the position you prefer…” 

He reclined next to me, and I breathed deeply, melting into the ground. 

“It is fine,” I said. “I will be glad to be there at all; it will be an honor to fight beside you.”

We laid like that for a while, and the silence was comfortable. I could hear distantly the conversations and activities of other creatures in the camp. There were hoofbeats and realized it was a group of centaur children playing tag near one of the bonfires while their parents studied the sky. A bird hooted in the woods. 

I spared a glance at the young king to see him in deep thought. 

I turned back to the sky, and let my eyes slide closed. 

“Do you love him?” Edmund asked me. “Caspian?”

The question jarred me slightly. 

“Of course I do,” I replied without hesitation. “He is my prince, I would die for him.”

The silence suddenly felt tense. The ground beneath me squirmed. The night was too quiet. The trees leaned in to hear my breath. 

Edmund didn’t say anything. Why wasn’t he saying anything? I glanced at his face, confused. 

His brows were creased and his lips were pressed into a thin line. He looked grave, displeased. Lucy said I made the graveness go away so why did he look so...

“Pardon,” I cleared my throat, “do you mean as a... lover?”

Edmund shifted in the grass, and looked away from me. I tried not to smirk from my position on the ground. 

“Perhaps I would take him as my husband if he commanded it of me…” I said, “and if he were not my cousin.”

I was smirking freely now. Edmund flushed in a sweet, boyish way that I never would have expected of a king. Still, he avoided my eyes. 

“It is not traditional for Telmarines to intermarry in that way,” I told him. 

He stuttered. “Oh, I see. Forgive me, lady. I meant no offense.”

“None taken,” I said slyly. “If it gives her comfort, you may tell Susan that he returns her affection.”

Edmund frowned. “Susan?”

My smile faltered. “Yes, Susan. Was it not she who asked you to inquire?”

“No- Yes-” Edmund floundered. “Of course. Susan.”

He blushed deeper, and I hid my smile behind my hand. When I regained my composure, I pressed my lips together tightly and looked back towards the sky. The sweat I had worked up while practicing cooled my skin now, and I shivered with the next breeze. 

Eventually, Edmund sat up, and passed me my sword which had laid in the grass between us. 

“We should go in and get some rest,” he said. 

I sat up and sheathed the blade. The raven haired boy helped me to my feet, and I brushed grass and dust from my pant legs. 

Once inside the How, he bid me a quick goodnight and ducked away to find Peter and Caspian. I did my own search and found an empty bedroll next to Lucy and Susan’s in one of the caverns of the How, my knapsack and armor beside it. I settled in and wrapped my cloak tightly around myself. It did not take long for the dark recesses of sleep to claim me.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I made a big boo-boo and I accidentally wrote this chapter and the next one in third person point of view. When I went back to change it, I realized it didn't work as well in first person, and I didn't want to scrap what I had and start again. So this chapter and the next will be in third person point of view. Feel free to share in the comments if you prefer for the story to return to first person point of view after these two chapters or if you prefer for the rest of the story to be in third person.
> 
> Warning for violence and gore. I changed the rating to coincide.

The horizon glowed with dawn next to the How that morning. Everyone had worked through the night to prepare for the coming raid. Something like electricity crackled in the air between all persons, and she soon realized it was anticipation, eagerness for battle. Her own fingertips were restless at her sword hilt, tapping out mindless rhythms and childhood play songs, as she buzzed between campsites gathering what she needed. Her chestplate was tight across her chest, stretched leather glinting in the torchlight. Her black hair was done in tight braids that wound like a snake against her head before trailing down her back. She looked like a lethal species, poised and dark and shining, a piece of smoky glass. 

She was looking for Edmund. It was almost time for the Narnians to march for the castle when she finally found him. He had been in one of the smith’s alcoves deep in the How. She entered the small cavern without his notice and waited. Flames splashed shadows on his figure and a faun knelt to fit plates of armor to his legs. When the faun stood, he moved to grab a leather jerkin and pauldron. Edmund turned so the smith could fasten the chest piece down the side. He didn’t see Arys until the faun moved to his back to tighten the shoulder pieces. 

“Arys,” he said in a simple greeting. 

“My lord,” she smirked slightly, “Edmund.”

Edmund grinned, his eyes matching her mirth. 

“Glenstorm and his people are gathering for the march,” she informed him. 

“Good. They shall be set in position by dark then,” he said. 

The smith finished his work and nodded respectfully to Edmund, who rolled his shoulders, adjusting to the fit. Edmund gave him an approving look before turning back to Arys. She couldn’t help but admire the king like this. He looked taller and more broad than she’d seen him before. It was like he felt more confident this way than in normal clothes. A king, she thought absently. His eyes caught hers and she blushed. 

She cleared her throat. “I have not seen Caspian or the others with them.” 

“That’s right,” he replied. “We’ll be leaving in a separate group for the How.”

“Oh.” 

They left the smith’s alcove together and followed the dark corridors to the main hall. As they walked, they passed the corridor leading down into the stone table room. Arys felt a small pull in her stomach. She’d spent the early hours of her morning kneeling in quiet contemplation before the table, drawn to it by a thirst for peace. When she thought of the coming raid, she found fear in her heart and, worse, blood thirst. She was afraid for Caspian and Peter, afraid for the Narnians because their task was an impossible one. But she was afraid for herself as well. When she thought of Miraz, she felt bloodlust rear its ugly head. She  _ wanted _ to kill him. She wanted revenge for all the times she’d sat at his table or in his council room and listened to his untruths. She wanted justice for the children he had made orphans of with his hunger for power. It twisted Arys up inside. She was not meant to feel such things. Gazing at the lion’s face in the firelight did little to quell her aching heart, but it reminded her of one thing: that this battle was not for her. It was for Aslan and for his people. There, she found resolve. 

“I have something for you,” Edmund said, drawing her out of her pensiveness. 

“What would that be, my lord?” 

He held up two pieces of armor, each comprised of two plates covered in leather, and like her chest piece, they were bound on one side by a leather cord and unlaced down the other. 

“You should have more than a chestplate,” he said, gesturing for her to offer him her arms. She held them out and he wrapped the armor around them and began lacing the open side. “I tried to commission a pauldron for you as well as another sword but they will not be ready until after the raid.”

Arys was speechless as he gently wound the cord through their corresponding loops and then moved on to the other arm. She felt heat on her neck as he did so. His head bent in focus, she was close enough to see the shine of his thick black hair. He smelled like woodfire and sword oil. 

“You are very kind.” Her soft voice broke the stunned silence. “I never had permission to wear a full set before.”

“I didn’t take you for the kind to let that stop you,” he said looking up to meet her eyes. He held his breath. 

She smiled and shook her head, saying, “I also did not have need for one.”

Something in his gaze turned dark then, the light in his eyes wavered like a shadow. “You were not at war then,” he said lowly. 

Arys caught the regret in his tone, and her frown deepened. “I was always at war,” she said, catching his wrist in her hand. “There is no peace while others are suffering. Today I get to end that.”

Arys waited for Edmund to stop looking sorry for her. When he finally did, she released his wrist, and he released hers. She hadn’t realized the way he’d clung to her until the pressure was gone. They shifted awkwardly on their feet. He was still standing so close to her, she became mildly distracted by the height difference. 

“Come, we should meet with the others.” 

He lingered despite his words. Arys didn’t move either. The air between them felt thick and heavy. Edmund tore his eyes away from hers and led them out into the budding daylight. The air was crisp and Arys felt herself reawaken. Glenstorm’s unit was already gone, and the other Pevensie siblings stood in their place all dressed for war. The raven haired couple approached them, and Caspian joined them from the other direction. 

“It’s getting late, are you sure we’ll make it by nightfall,” her cousin said. 

“Oh, we’ll make it,” Peter replied. 

“You still haven’t told us how you plan to get into the castle,” Caspian said, disgruntled. 

The three pevensie siblings snickered to each other. 

“Follow me.” And the two telmarine children were led into the woods behind the How. 

Peter began climbing the rocky ascent up the shaded side of the structure. Arys and Caspian gave each other nervous looks as they followed behind the two oldest Pevensies. The climb wasn’t steep, but the rocks and soil were covered in moss and small plants, making it slippery. Arys squinted into the light of the rising sun, but couldn’t discern where it was they were going. They were almost at the top of the How when Peter and Susan and Caspian disappeared over a ledge Arys hadn’t noticed. Edmund disappeared next, before turning around to offer his hand to the girl. He gripped her tightly and pulled up the last couple of feet. She swung a leg over the ledge and rolled onto it. They all caught their breath. Arys sat up. The sight that greeted her was unlike anything she had ever expected. 

Wind whistled in her ears and ruffled golden fur and feathers. Camped on the plateau of the How’s back was a large group of Gryphons. Hard beaks and piercing eyes regarded Arys and Caspian with curiosity, and she felt the most keen sense of wonder at the sight of them. They looked strong and fearsome, and a part of her couldn’t help but shrink back in shock. They held their heads up proudly in the presence of the high king and queen. The largest of them stepped forward and knelt before Peter. 

“We are honored to serve you this day, my king.”

“Are your men ready?” 

“We are.”

Edmund turned to Arys and whispered, “Are you alright?”

Arys stuttered before managing to whisper, “Quite fine, my lord.”

“Arys.”

“Hm,” she looked at him with wide eyes, quite distractedly. 

“You’re clinging to my shirt.”

Arys released the sleeve of his shirt from her tight fingers. Her whole body was taut with tension. 

“You mean to say they’re going to- we’re going to- I’m,” she couldn’t finish the question. 

Edmund tried to stifle a smile. “We’ll take it slow.” 

Susan and Peter were already mounting the creatures. Caspian was allowing one of them to sniff him curiously before he climbed on. One gryphon beat his wings and settled himself on the side of the How. His talons dug into the earth beside Arys, clinging to the ledge she’d just climbed. Arys gasped and laughed nervously. 

Edmund took her by the hand and let her to the edge. The hilt of her sword reflected light the same color as the Narnian’s fur. The creature dipped one shoulder blade to make it easier to reach. 

“Go on,” said the boy. He held her steady as she stretched one leg off the cliff’s edge. She lunged enough to swing her leg over its side, and Edmund let her shaking fingers go from his grasp. 

Her arms floated for balance and she adjusted herself on the shining creature. She cried out, as it lifted its feet and ruffled its wings, resetting its grip on the hillside. Edmund sidled up to her on a creature of his own. He looked as comfortable on it as if he were riding a horse. 

Just like a horse, she thought. 

“Hold on,” said a deep voice, and it took Arys a moment before she realized it was coming from below her. 

She buried her hands in the feathers on its back and leaned forward until her chest was almost to its shoulder blades. The Narnian thrust off the side of the How and beat his wings once, twice, three times. Wind laid the grass flat against the How from the force of its flight. The breath was gone from her lungs, and Arys swore she might faint, but fear wound itself like a coil in her hands and refused to let her fall. The rising sun was warm against her face as strong wings carried her on the breeze towards the coming fight. 

  
  
  


It was dark when they landed in the woods outside the castle. Arys discovered that they would be carried over the castle walls underneath the Gryphons so they could be let down quickly when it came time to invade. Edmund would go first and give a signal, and Arys would follow, then the rest. The other teams of soldiers were already in position. 

The moon hung high in the sky above them. Every ounce of her was humming. It was like magic, the twitch in her fingers, the thrumming in her veins. Her eyes shined in the darkness and the very air seemed to quiver around her. 

She didn’t realize it but Edmund was looking at her, watching her pace. He saw in her the same signs of every good fighter, a fire. She was burning with it from the inside out like a star in the sky. What she had was not rare among Narnian fighters. He’d fought in many wars over the years with many faithful soldiers, and they all radiated the same power. But it was different coming from her, because she was not Narnian, not by birth. Telmarines were a dark race and their bloodlust was its own. The ember heart Arys possessed wasn’t anything like it. It was as if she was Narnian at her core. 

She caught him staring and he gave her a stiff nod. A few minutes later, Arys was watching a Gryphon lift him with ease and carrying him to the tower she’d pointed out days earlier. She was next. Claws like iron wrapped around her shoulders and her legs, and she kept her stomach tight like a plank of wood as the creature above her floated, waiting for the signal. 

One, two, three, flashes of light. 

Arys held her breath as they passed over the fortress below her. The creature released her legs, and she landed on the same tower as Edmund. He gave her a nod and signaled for the others. One by one, she pointed out each guard to Edmund at a low whisper, and he signaled to the others. When all the main look outs were dispatched, Arys released a soft breath and nodded to Edmund. 

Since she landed, nervousness began to set in. They waited silently for Caspian to reappear with Professor Cornelius, but he never did. Edmund began to mess with his electric light restlessly, and the dread within Arys only grew. It didn’t help that the last time she was on a wall like this, she was watching soldiers follow her cousin into the night. 

“Something’s not right,” she said aloud after several minutes. “We would have seen something by now. Caspian should be in the gatehouse.”

“I’m sure they’re alright, some things take time.”

She shook her head. “No, something is wrong, I can feel it.”

Just then a gut wrenching cry pierced the silent air. 

The blood drained from the girl’s face. “Caspian.”

Edmund’s grip fumbled on the torch and it fell to the level below. 

“Stay here,” he hissed. “I’ll go and get it.” 

Arys watched helplessly as he disappeared into the tower. She saw a guard come out of the door below and pick up the torch. He picked it up and shone it in his own face. Then the sound of bells tolling cut through the night, and Arys’ heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. It was the guard. They’d been caught. 

Below, Edmund was leaping out of a window onto the guard below. They grappled on the ground, and she heard the king’s painful grunt as they tussled on the floor. She watched from above as the two men drew their swords. 

“Stars above,” she hissed, drawing her own. She watched Edmund get pinned. 

Peter sprinted through the court yard and called, “Now, Ed. Now! Signal the troops!” 

Arys didn’t have the torch. She needed the torch. She was already moving down the spiral stairs when she heard Edmund call something back. From the window she watched him headbut the guard. She ran out of the door just in time to watch the guard disarm Edmund. He swung and Edmund ducked, narrowly missing getting his head lobbed off. Without hesitation, Arys lunged and swiped her blade through the guard’s sword hand, cutting it clean off, giving Edmund enough time to grab the torch. He swung it once, twice striking the guard across the face knocking him out cold. The light flickered off. 

“Oh, no,” he moaned. 

It wasn’t turning on. 

“Edmund, look.”

Guards were flooding the courtyard, and Peter was still straining to get the gate open. 

“Come on,” Edmund said, as he smacked the torch repeatedly. It flickered back to life. 

Arys put her back to Edmund, sword poised high in defense. He signalled the others. A guard came out and advanced on Arys. The blade in her hand sung to life as she struck against him. She grunted hard and forced the sword across his chest, splitting his armor open followed by the flesh beneath it. Edmund turned around, eyebrows raised in surprise at her savagery. There was a spatter of blood on her cheek and it dripped off her sword to the stone bricks below. 

“Let’s go. This way.” 

He led her frantically off their platform to another passage on the mezzanine, and Narnian troops flooded the courtyard with furious cries of battle and blood. Telmarine soldiers screamed, and Arys watched as men she had once watched train were gutted by the wild creatures. Edmund was climbing up and over a roof to watch the carnage. Archers lined up against the wall below. 

Another soldier came up behind her, and she brought her sword down hard across his legs. The man fell to his knees. As he looked up at her, his eyes widened, and she knew that he recognized her. She drove her sword into his chest. Blood poured out of his mouth, poured out of his wounded heart and splashed against Quick’s body. 

“Lady,” he whispered as his eyes faded. 

He was gone. 

Arys pulled out her blade. She looked around frantically. Edmund was gone. He had dived over the edge of the roof and was on the other side. She climbed with one hand just in time to see all the archers turn towards him. He threw himself through a door, and closed it. There was no way into that tower from where Arys was. They were separated, but she was of a singular mind. She would find another way to him. 

The girl sprinted into the castle, following another corridor. She wound her way through the familiar fortress, cutting down every guard and soldier in her path. They were running to the courtyard, to the towers, to verandas, anywhere they could make a clean shot from. 

She was higher in the castle now, could see the fight from plain view outside some of the windows. She turned a corner and found herself next to the doorway of a balcony. An archer down the hallway faced her, his destination clear. He fired a shot from his crossbow, and pain pierced her side. Fire erupted within her, and she released an inhuman roar. With a swipe of her sword, the protruding end of the bolt was cropped off, and she advanced on the archer. He ducked his head to avoid her blow, and reached for his dagger. Like a flash of lightning, she was on him, and her sword slid across his throat. 

A horrid whine sounded, and she turned her head in time to watch a young minotaur falling from a tower above. He crushed the roofing of her level on his way down, and she knew he would be dead when he hit the ground. 

Time seemed to slow, and her ears felt deaf. Another guard came around the corner, but she brought the sword down on his face. His screams were muted as she propelled her body away from the courtyard. She came to the tower that she wanted, and called out for the Gryphon who’d carried her earlier. It took a moment, but her hearing returned and with it, the sound of beating wings. She stepped out on the edge of the window and the gryphon let her climb onto its back. 

“Edmund,” she rasped. And the creature understood. 

Below, the Narnians were retreating with fervor. Arys and the Narnian circled the fortress, and she pointed to the tower. The gryphon dipped and flew closer. Edmund was pinned in place by two guards with swords, and Arys felt her heart stutter. She gripped her mount tightly and pressed against his back. It flew in and dug its talons into the side of the castle. Edmund glanced back at them over his shoulder. 

His eyes widened at the sight of her there. He turned back to the guards and smiled. 

Arys watched him drift backwards, free falling. He twisted his body towards her and reached out his hand. Arys strained forward and caught him by the forearm as he fell past her. Every muscle in her body screamed with the effort, but she swung him onto the Gryphon’s back to sit behind her. The creature’s claws scraped against the cliffside under the new pressure. It beat its wings a few times for stability before it pushed itself off and into the air. 

It screeched as it flashed its wings against the guards on the tower platform. Arys felt air return to her lungs, ears still ringing. She was covered in blood. The sword that was still in her hands was covered in blood. Edmund pressed his chest against her back as they passed over the castle. She winced and he hissed. His hand came up to her side and he felt the arrowhead protruding out of her back. 

“What happened,” he asked over the rushing wind. 

“I couldn’t leave you behind,” was all she said. 

Arys shivered, and her vision swam. She felt heavy and tired. Edmund’s arm wrapped around the side that wasn’t injured and he pressed her tight against him to hold her steady. The creature below them dipped struggling to carry the weight of two people, and they flew low over the courtyard. What they saw broke Edmund’s heart, and it would have broken Arys’ if her eyes were not so unfocused. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder that this is the other chapter I messed up and accidentally wrote in third person point of view instead of first person. Sorry for the confusion.   
> Let me know what you think and what needs work-- Writing is a practice.

Outside the castle walls, the gryphon finally landed, and Edmund pulled Arys’ slumped body off it’s back. She staggered into him, and he was reminded of the day they first met. He’d held her limp body against his just like this that day in the river bed. Susan ran up to them, and supported Arys under her other arm. 

“Careful,” Edmund said. “She’s been shot. Bolt’s still in her side.”

“What happened?” Susan hissed. “We didn’t see her when Peter called the retreat.”

“We got separated. She found another way out,” he said. 

Arys cried out in pain again and her knees buckled. 

“Caspian is looking for her,” Susan said. “Do you think she’ll be alright?”

Edmund looked at his sister with a dark gaze. “She has to be. What happened back there?”

Arys listened distantly as Susan explained how Caspian had disregarded the plan and confronted Miraz on his own. She explained that Peter insisted on leading the raid even after they’d been caught. She explained that Miraz ordered the archers to fire on the whole courtyard, Narnians and Telmarines alike. They had lost half their numbers. Arys was angry. She was heartbroken. Her nerves were frayed and the pain in her side made it all the more difficult to remain calm. 

Before, in the castle, she had focused on Edmund, protecting him and finding him. Now, she needed Caspian. She knew he would be tense with anger and grief for Peter and for himself. She needed to find him. 

They walked for hours. She was in pain and exhausted, but Edmund held her tightly against his side and helped her walk back to the How. Eventually, they ended up with Peter and Caspian at the front of the line. Caspian hardly looked at her. His eyes were fixed on Peter. 

When the How was within sight, Arys felt some energy return to her body. She limped the rest of the way on her own, Edmund’s careful hand lingering at her back. They passed under the stone arch, and Arys watched Lucy come out of the How. It was clear to the other Narnians that half the troops had returned. 

Her heart burned again with sorrow for them. Her hand gripped her sword hilt as if it would steady her rushing pulse. 

“What happened?” Lucy murmured. 

“Ask him.”

Susan scolded him. “Peter.”

“Me?” Caspian asked. “You could have called it off. There was still time.”

Arys was already pushing past Professor Cornelius, out of Edmund’s range to deescalate the situation. This was exactly what she thought would happen. 

“No, there wasn’t thanks to you,” Peter said, turning on Caspian. “If you kept to the plan, those soldiers might be alive.”

“If we’d stayed here like I suggested, they definitely would be!”

Edmund tried to follow her closely, but she was of one mind. 

“You called us, remember?” 

“My first mistake,” Caspian dug. 

“No, your first mistake was thinking you could lead these people,” Peter spat. 

“Hey!” Caspian yelled, “I am not the one who abandoned Narnia.”

Arys had heard enough. 

“You invaded Narnia. You have no more right to lead it than Miraz does.”

Caspian shoved past Peter. 

“You, him, your father. Narnia’s better off without the lot of you.”

Caspian froze before he roared and drew his sword.

Without thinking, Arys’ hand reached for Edmund’s sword in its scabbard. She drew her own with her other hand and swung hard against her cousin’s blade. Before the two men could meet each other in a duel, Arys was between them, a blade raised at each of their throats. 

“Stop it!” 

Her eyes were dark, and her face was twisted in a snarl. Above her, the clouds swirled and turned black. The blade that was hers was still red with Telmarine blood. She glared at her cousin and then at Peter. Blood seeped out of her side and glistened. 

She looked like a god of war. 

“Are you so eager to fight amongst yourselves that you have forgotten who the enemy is!” Her voice was harsh and gravelly as she bellowed it. 

For a moment, everyone feared her. Edmund was stunned silent, but then he watched her knees tremble, and one of her arms wobbled. He rushed up to her side, and gently wrapped his hand around the one that held his sword and lowered it. She let the hilt slip from her fingers and he put it back in his scabbard giving Peter a meaningful look. She staggered, and he caught her against his chest, letting her other sword hand fall. 

Caspian and Peter lowered their weapons. Behind them, Glenstorm was laying down Trumpkin at the foot of the How. Lucy sprinted past them all, drawing out her vial of healing cordial. Arys breathed heavily against Edmund while the little queen administered it. When she was done, she came up to Arys and looked at her side with wide eyes. 

“You may have some as well, but we have to get that out first.”

Arys’ head bobbed in understanding. 

“Arys, I--” Caspian was reaching for her but she flinched away from his hand. 

She shook her head at him, eyes welling with tears, and Edmund led her back into the How. 

They laid her down on a bedroll in the main hall, and Lucy used her dagger to cut the cords binding her chestplate. The Professor stood nearby as the leather was peeled away to reveal the shaft of the bolt buried in her side. It was about five inches long. 

“This is going to hurt,” said Edmund, before wrapping his fingers around the arrowhead in the back. 

Arys grit her teeth and he pulled it through like a sewing needle through fabric. She cried out. Lucy was immediately at her lips, letting a drop from the vial fall to her tongue. Arys was about to protest, but it was too late. A great calm washed over her, and the pain dissipated. She sighed out, and her tired eyes slid closed. 


End file.
